


The Sawyers

by Lampblack



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Animal Death, Cannibalism, Gen, Just A Normal Family Sitcom, M/M, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lampblack/pseuds/Lampblack
Summary: While travelling cross-country alone, a young man finds himself getting entangled with an unusual Texas family.
Kudos: 8





	The Sawyers

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! This marks my first attempt at screenplay-style writing and it was an incredibly fun exercise so I hope it's fun to read. I'm writing this series in the style of a horror-comedy tv show, and will probably end up tackling some pretty heavy subject matter. Aside from, you know, the cannibalism. This first chapter is the functional pilot, and each chapter will essentially mark one episode. I'm not updating on a strict schedule or anything, but well, I'm also certainly not doing much else in my home while staying inside for 24 hours every day, so. Hope to see you back here in the notes section soon.

"PILOT"

  
COLD OPEN

  
EXT. TEXAS PRAIRIE - DAY

  
The Texas landscape is vibrant as the sun burns down on it. We see various flora and fauna - deer, raccoons, mockingbirds - peacefully existing in their habitats. In these brief moments the day seems idyllic. Warm.

  
An armadillo begins crossing a dusty highway.

  
TITLE CARD:

  
April 20, 1973

  
Down the road a VAN approaches.

  
INT. VAN

  
From the looks of it this car has been made into a moving bachelor pad. There's a variety of personal effects, mementos, knick-knacks, and miscellaneous road trip trash littering the interior. Sitting in the driver's seat is RANDY, mid 20s, blond, handsome in a soft and boyish way. There's a slight THUMP.

RANDY

Oh, fuck.

  
He visibly contemplates for a moment, glancing in the rearview mirror at the mess of gore behind him, then recovers.

  
RANDY

Well, he - he was probably a bad person anyways.

  
Randy fiddles with the radio, flipping through news channels and talk shows before landing on some playful country.

CUT TO:

  
TITLE SEQUENCE

  
The music from the radio is our theme music. Set over lighthearted guitar is a montage of polaroid photos, depicting shots of Texas wildlife both alive and in various stages of decay, as well as pictures of the Sawyer family and their various "dinner guests". The imagery is pitted against the lighthearted, homey tone.

  
EXT. GAS STATION - DAY

  
We see the aging wooden GAS STATION. Through the grimy windows a handful of people can be seen eating at small tables inside. Cars and trucks loiter to the side, and a lone gas pump stands out front. The van pulls up and parks, and we FOCUS on Randy as hops out. He gives the area a once over.

  
RANDY

  
Alright, they've gotta have something they'll pay you for here.

  
INT. GAS STATION - DAY

  
A BELL DINGS as Randy enters the station. The interior is cramped and dingy, quiet save for the CRACKLE of a fire, and the few patrons pay this newcomer no mind. Over the counter leans DRAYTON SAWYER, gaunt and greasy.

DRAYTON

  
Howdy! What can I do for you?

  
RANDY

  
Actually, sir, I was coming here wondering if there was something I could do for you.

  
Drayton's attitude quickly hardens with suspicion.

  
DRAYTON

  
Just what do you mean by that, young man?

  
Randy leans over the countertop, meeting Drayton's gaze head-on.

RANDY

I've been driving myself across the country - started out over in Virginia and making my way west. And I was just wondering, if you got any odd jobs around that you need doing, well - I'm happy to do 'em.

  
DRAYTON

  
No, we don't - I ain't got no need for any of that.

  
RANDY

  
You running this place all by yourself, sir? I bet it gets tiring. I can help around, clear tables, help customers, tidy up -

  
DRAYTON

  
Listen, I told you I don't - now, I can handle all that myself, and even if I couldn't, I don't got enough money to pay you.

  
He darts off, trying to make himself look busy and disengage from the conversation, but Randy follows after him.

  
RANDY

  
Oh, I don't need much. Just a couple bucks a week -

  
DRAYTON

  
What, so you can waste it all on gas getting in from Newt back to here?

  
RANDY

  
Oh, you don't need to worry about that, I've got a mattress in the back of my van out there. I've been living out of it most the trip. I can just roll right out of it - get the place set up bright and early in the mornings.

  
DRAYTON

  
I told you, I - you can sleep in your van?

  
RANDY

Yes, sir.

  
DRAYTON

  
And you'll...help me clean up a little, help with the customers?

  
RANDY

  
Absolutely, sir.

  
Drayton considers the proposition, balancing frugality with his desire to offload his work on someone competent.

  
DRAYTON

  
Well...well. I suppose I could use a little help around here. My - my brothers sure ain't much use.

  
The two shake hands.

  
RANDY

  
Thank you very much! The name's Randy.

  
DRAYTON

  
Drayton Sawyer. Now, listen, don't you go messing with the meat, you hear? I don't mind a little help, but the barbeque - that's my job.

  
RANDY

  
Understood. Help around the station, keep my hands off the meat. Easy.

  
EXT. GAS STATION - MORNING

  
ANGLE ON Randy's van. The side door is pulled open and he sits at the edge, dressed sparsely for the warm weather, and finishes lacing his sneakers. From the radio in the front of the car we hear music turned up loud enough to hear from a decent distance. Randy bounces up and walks to a rusted hose spigot, picking up a bucket nearby. He fills it and begins cleaning the dust-coated windows - a difficult task given the years of layers built up.

  
The sun makes its way across the sky as he works. Before too long, a pick-up truck pulls up and parks. Drayton steps out of the driver's seat, and from out of the truck bed clambers NUBBINS, younger yet somehow gaunter and greasier than his brother, with a large winestain birthmark spilled across the lower right side of his face and a large polaroid camera hanging from his neck.

  
DRAYTON

  
Alright, turn that shit you're playing off. You're gonna drive away the few customers I've got.

  
RANDY

  
Yes, sir, I've got it.

  
He sets the bucket and sponge down and hurries over to turn off the car radio.

  
NUBBINS

  
(to Drayton)  
Aw, d-d'you have to? It's not that bad - not that bad. H-hey, maybe you could, uh, use a little m-music to keep you from bein' such a - such a hard ass all the time.

  
DRAYTON

  
Now, Nubbins, you shut the hell up too. If I get you scarin' anyone away I'm gonna beat your ass raw.

  
This is apparently a threat Drayton makes often, because Nubbins seems unbothered by it, and instead wanders over to where Randy has resumed work.

  
NUBBINS

  
So you're - you're the uh, guy my brother hired, huh?

  
RANDY

  
That's me. Probably won't be around too long.

  
NUBBINS

  
Yeah? Where you headed?

  
RANDY

  
Oh, nowhere in particular, just...just needed to, you know, get myself moving.

  
NUBBINS

  
Aw, yeah, I get that. Drayton over there, h-he always rails on me a-and Bobby for, uh, bein' drifters.

  
RANDY

  
Bobby?

  
NUBBINS

  
Aw, my other brother - we're twins, y'know? He, uh...he got back a - a while ago, but he needed some...he said he needed to, uh, find himself or something.

  
RANDY

  
So its just the two of you now, huh?

  
NUBBINS

  
Nah, we've got Bubba too, but he - he mostly stays at home - he's real shy around new people. You got any family?

  
RANDY

  
Not any siblings - my parents are still around but we don't, uh...we don't stay in very close contact. I write them a letter every now and then, but...

  
NUBBINS

  
Hey, tell you what - you should - you should come over for dinner!

  
Drayton leans out of the doorway of the gas station, irritated.

  
DRAYTON

  
Alright, that's enough out of you two. I ain't paying you to talk, and I ain't payin' you at all, so quit botherin' my employee.

  
RANDY

  
Sorry, sir!

  
Though still seeming dismissive of Drayton's attempts at an authoritative attitude, this time Nubbins pays more mind and wanders off, lingering by the roadside in anticipation of strangers willing to offer rides.

  
Randy watches him go, the offer of a family dinner still hanging in the air, then returns to window washing with a renewed focus.

  
INT. GAS STATION - EVENING

  
Randy wipes down tables as Drayton keeps an eye on the barbeque. The station is empty tonight save for the two of them - a slow day even for a slow place.

  
RANDY

  
So, Nubbins - what's his deal? With the hitchhiking?

  
DRAYTON

  
Don't you mind that nitwit. He can't help himself from just - haulin' off in any damn direction. Says its for "artistic inspiration" or some horseshit. I don't like him leaving his brother home alone but...well, better I at least know about it than coming home and finding out his dumb ass snuck off again.

  
RANDY

  
Your brother - that's Bubba, right?

  
DRAYTON

  
What, did he tell you about our whole damn family history? Yeah, that's Bubba. Even dumber than the other two.

  
Randy gives a light laugh and moves to clean off the countertop, closing some of the distance between him and Drayton.

  
RANDY

  
Nah, just some small talk. He did invite me to dinner, but it seemed kinda like he does that for most people.

  
There's a long silence.

  
DRAYTON

  
Yeah...yeah, I suppose he does. Listen, you don't...you don't wanna come over. Those two ain't exactly excellent dinner company.

  
RANDY

  
I dunno, he seems alright. A little twitchy, but nice enough. Besides, if dinner tastes as good as the barbeque smells, I'd probably be willing to put up with some pretty strange company.

  
DRAYTON

Well - I do a pretty good job, if I say so myself. Ain't easy - a lot of people, they think it's real easy, but there's...a whole lot of work goes into what we do.

  
RANDY

  
Yeah, I saw the sign out there - you slaughter all this meat yourself?

  
DRAYTON

  
Oh, no, I don't - it's the family business, but I can't stomach the killing much anymore. I stick to the cooking. Yes, I...I stick to the cooking.

  
Another long silence.

  
DRAYTON

  
Tell you what. Not tonight, but...maybe you ought to come over for dinner sometime. You look almost as scrawny as the twins, and...it's been a while since we've had a guest.

  
RANDY

  
Aw, well - I guess it couldn't hurt.

  
He glances over at a squeaky metal display of postcards - all generically proclaiming to have been delivered from "TEXAS" - and picks one up to inspect.

  
RANDY

  
Hey, Mr. Sawyer, is it okay if...you could knock the cost off my paycheck, for one of these postcards? I sort of collect them.

  
Drayton waves his hand in a dismissive approval.

  
INT. VAN - NIGHT

  
The night is dark and quiet, the gas station locked up and its lights off. Randy sits on the sparse mattress in the back of his van, writing on the back of the post card in small, polite script by the interior light of the car.

  
RANDY (V.O.)

  
"Hi Mom and Dad! John and I are still making our way to his parents' house in California. I hope you get to meet him someday soon. Staying safe and loving you always, your daughter."

  
The card gets set aside to mail later, and the light switched off. Randy grabs a box of snack cakes from where they were previously squirreled away and unwraps one for dinner.

  
RANDY

  
Family meal with strangers, huh? Well, it won't be the weirdest thing that's happened on this trip.

  
EXT. GAS STATION - DAY

  
Through the state of the station, we can see that some time has passed. The place isn't sparkling by any means, but the windows and walls have some of the layers of grime scrubbed off of them. A car drives up and has barely pulled to a stop before Nubbins darts out of the back seat. He waves goodbye to the car as it drives off, though the other passengers inside don't seem eager to return the favor. Once the car is down the road, he turns and bounds into the station.

INT. GAS STATION - DAY

  
Once again the station is empty of patrons. Randy stands behind the counter, an open bottle of soda in his hands, and Drayton is nowhere to be seen. The BELL DINGS as Nubbins throws the door open.

  
NUBBINS

  
Today's the big day, huh Blondie! He didn't, uh - didn't go and change his mind, did he?

  
RANDY

  
Nah - he's actually picking up some stuff in town for dinner. Said he should be safe leaving me in charge since there 'won't be nobody drivin' past this shitshow anyways'.

  
Nubbins laughs.

  
NUBBINS

  
So, he's in a good mood then! Great, great - it's been a while since we had a guest over - a real guest.

  
RANDY

  
I bet. I've only been here nearly a week, but it hardly seems busy.

  
NUBBINS

  
Aw, yeah - it's always just - just people passing through. I ask if they wanna stick around, but - everyone on the highway, they always seem in a real hurry to get out of here.

  
RANDY

  
Uh-huh.

  
NUBBINS

  
I mean sometimes - sometimes people stick around, but we don't usually keep 'em long. Not before they...well, anyways! I've been telling Bubba all about you, Blondie, and he's real excited to meet ya.

  
RANDY

  
Really?

  
NUBBINS

  
Oh, yeah! He's got a real thing for blonds.

  
Randy chokes on his soda; some sprays across the countertop and he hurries to find some napkins to mop up the mess.

  
RANDY

  
I'm sorry, he - he what?

  
NUBBINS

  
Yeah, we've all got that dark - we've got that brown hair, y'know, so - ain't nothing wrong with it, but he always gets real excited by blonds.

  
RANDY

  
Uh - uh-huh. He - so, I mean, does he -

  
The BELL DINGS, and in walks Drayton, laden with grocery bags.

  
DRAYTON

  
Well, what the fuck is this then? I gotta - I gotta do all the damn heavy lifting here while you two hippies gossip?

  
Randy rushes over to lighten his load, eager both to stay in his boss's good standing and escape the previous conversation.

  
RANDY

  
Sorry, Mr. Sawyer - we weren't talking much.

  
DRAYTON

  
Hell. Don't go making a habit of it. You're gonna have plenty of time to talk tonight anyways.

  
NUBBINS

  
Hey, why don't we - why don't we go ahead and drop the groceries off at home? We can check on Bubba.

  
DRAYTON

  
For fuck's - Randy, you hear this? This is what I put up with. No work ethic out of this boy! Doesn't even - doesn't even work a full day, and he already wants to go home.

Randy is fussing with the groceries in an attempt to pointedly ignore the familial bickering.

  
NUBBINS

  
Hey! I do plenty of work! Who gets all the, the meat to the house? Huh? Just 'cause Bubba's best at butchering - that don't make my job any easier.

  
Randy's eyebrows knit in confusion. He inspects the groceries slightly closer, and while there are indeed various pantry-stockers in the bags there's a noticeable lack of protein.

  
RANDY

  
Do you -

  
The two brothers snap to look at him - the presence of a long-worn family debate had made then nearly forget that of the other man. Randy also seems surprised at himself, but decides to continue.

  
RANDY

  
Um, I don't - I'm not trying to judge, I just - well, do you guys...

  
A heavy silence hangs in the building.

  
RANDY

  
Are you eating roadkill?

  
There's another long period of silence, as the two brothers make eye contact with each other, and then finally break into uproarious laughter.

  
DRAYTON

  
Oh, do we - ha. Well, look. Don't you worry about that none. Look, why don't you go ahead and drive Nubbins and the groceries home. I'll be back before too long.

  
RANDY

  
Uh. Yeah, yeah, sure.

  
EXT. GAS STATION - DAY

  
Nubbins and Randy load the grocery bags into the back of the van.

  
NUBBINS

  
Hey, look - we're not too far off the highway, you're not gonna be able to miss it - when we get close, could you lemme out?

  
RANDY

  
Huh? Why?

  
NUBBINS

  
It's still pretty early - I just wanna, y'know, see if I can catch a few more rides. Meet a few more people.

  
RANDY

  
Didn't you say your brother gets nervous around new people?

  
NUBBINS

  
Yeah, but he knows you're comin'! Just give him plenty of warning, he should be alright.

  
RANDY

  
Uh....yeah. Yeah, okay.

  
INT. VAN - DAY

  
Randy sits at in the drivers seat, alone in the car. He's not driving - through a window we can see the SAWYER HOUSE at a short distance. Randy is staring directly out the windshield, blank faced, then suddenly hits the steering wheel a few times.

  
RANDY

  
Fuck! God! What the hell! Okay. Okay. Keep it together. He's not trying to set you up with his brother. That's fucking insane. You're fucking insane. You're misinterpreting things and you need to get a handle on yourself before you just waltz on in there like a horny asshole. You haven't even seen the guy yet. God, what the fuck is wrong with me! I'm - Randall, you are not. You are not being set up with the brother of the guy whose fucking windows you're cleaning for gas money! Fuck!

  
He spends a long moment regaining composure, and then eventually opens the car door.

  
EXT. SAWYER HOUSE - DAY.

  
The Sawyer home makes for a delightful country home - set in the middle of a meadow edged by trees, it manages a cozy, secluded feel despite its proximity to the highway. The area is overgrown, but not to the degree of being unnavigable. A gnarled old tree stands near a bench swing with peeling paint. A barn and various other structures can be seen scattered across the land, and from somewhere in the distance the CLUCKING of chickens and the CHUGGING of a generator can be heard.

  
Randy bounces up the porch steps, opens the screen door, and knocks politely on the front door. Then knocks again.

  
RANDY

  
Hello? Uh...anybody home?

  
Louder knocking now.

  
RANDY

  
Are you there? I just, uh, I've got - oh, fuck me.

  
He turns and sits down on the porch steps.

  
RANDY

  
There probably isn't even another brother. This is probably some elaborate joke. Or I'm going to be murdered, which figures.

  
From behind him, the front door opens quietly. A large, imposing figure stands in the darkness within. CLOSE SHOT on Randy as he continues talking to himself.

  
RANDY

  
God, I'm such an idiot. Just walking myself into strangers' homes for a couple bucks and a hot meal and the chance at -

  
There's a CREAK of wooden boards, and Randy's head just barely turns to the sound of the noise before a large hammer makes contact with the back of his head.

  
INT. HOUSE KITCHEN - DAY

  
This space functions as a combined kitchen and butcher's room. Despite the age and wear of the space, it's clearly well-outfitted. Near the pantry door stand two grisly meat hooks. Sitting and tied up in front of these hooks sit Randy, just now coming back to consciousness, and another VICTIM, who seems to have been awake and crying for some time now. The Sawyer family can be heard bickering from another room.

  
DRAYTON (O.S.)

  
\- just can't leave you two alone, can I? I give you an inch, and you take a mile! Have the - the food sittin' out in a car all damn afternoon, 'cause you can't just listen to me for once!

  
NUBBINS (O.S.)

  
Oh, shut up! This ain't my fault - I told him to give Leatherface plenty of warning, he must've gotten spooked -

  
Drayton walks into the kitchen, pulling BUBBA roughly by the wrist. Bubba is significantly taller and broader than his brother, well dressed and wearing a rubber apron. Most noticeably is that his entire head is covered by a mask which appears to be made from the face of another person - thinly stretched and tanned skin stitched together to fit a head larger than it was intended to. Despite his size and the gruesome mask, he seems intensely intimidated by his older brother. Nubbins follows closely behind the other two.

  
DRAYTON

  
Look at this! Look what we have to deal with now!

  
He crouches in front of the two captives - Randy in an apparent state of shock and the other Victim loudly sobbing. Drayton points dramatically between the two.

  
DRAYTON

  
This is the guest! This is the meat! Guest! Meat! Guest! Meat! Now look, you've gone and - and ruined dinner, you damn fool!

  
The voice from under the mask is surprisingly high-pitched, an anxious, quick babbling coming from a mouth full of crooked teeth, some of them noticably filed down into sharp points.

  
BUBBA

  
A hb gh behy n eb eew!

DRAYTON

I don't care that you kept 'em both alive! Look, now our - you've been rude to our guest and the meat's not ready for cookin'! Now, apologize to him and get to butcherin' the other one!

  
Bubba looks apologetically to Randy and picks up a hammer from the butcher's block in the center of the room.

  
BUBBA

  
Hn hja bby ouy oou mksm.

  
The Victim's screams then quickly end as Bubba knocks them in the back of the head with the hammer.

  
INT. HOUSE DINING ROOM - EVENING

  
The long table is set for five places - Randy is tied to a large chair before one, and the place at the head of the table has no chair. Through the open doorway Bubba and Drayton can be seen in the kitchen, hard at work.

  
DRAYTON

  
Listen, I - I really can't be sorry enough about all this.

  
RANDY

  
Um. It's okay, sir.

  
DRAYTON

  
I mean, it's really - trying to be head of house for these numbskulls, it's like managing a goddamn three ring circus.

  
RANDY

  
No, really, it's. Uh. It's fine.

  
DRAYTON

  
Bubba go on and - help your brother with Grandpa, and get ready for dinner. By the time you're ready it oughta be time to serve dinner up.

  
Bubba nods vigorously and rushes out of the kitchen and down the hall. Randy pulls lightly at the ropes keeping him bound to the chair - his arms are free enough to reach the place setting, but not much further. He glances around the room and begins absorbing the state of the room's décor.

  
Much of the furniture is either built from or adorned with a variety of both human and animal bones. One lamp seems to be supported by the spine and ribcage of a human skeleton, with its shade made from the skin of human hands carefully interlocked and sewn together. The chandelier features a massive collection of small toe and finger bones to form its delicate curves.

  
A CLATTER can be heard from upstairs, and then Nubbins and Bubba walk into the dining room carrying a rocking chair which holds GRANDPA, who looks more like a California Raisins mascot than a living human man. He's placed delicately at the head of the table, and Bubba leaves him a few kisses on the top of his head before bustling back out. Nubbins takes the seat across from Randy.

  
NUBBINS

  
Grandpa, this is - this is our dinner guest! Randy, this is our grandpa.

  
RANDY

  
Uh. Hello, sir.

  
NUBBINS

  
Hey, look - I'm sorry 'bout this too, I - Bubba just gets real nervous and he must've gotten, uh, a little mixed up!

  
RANDY

  
Okay. No, yeah, um. It's okay.

  
NUBBINS

  
He's really good at what he does! Drayton don't like sayin' it, but Bubba's real smart - you just gotta help get 'im on the right track. He just got a little mixed up. He didn't mean to hurt you. Just got mixed up.

  
RANDY

  
(not very sincerely)

  
That's very comforting. Thank you.

  
DRAYTON

  
Bubba! Get back down here!

  
HEAVY FOOTSTEPS down the stairs. Bubba returns to the kitchen - his mask traded for that of a woman's face, long hair in haphazard curls and makeup in the exaggerated style of stage makeup. A bright red stain surrounds the loose-hanging lips, and the eyelashes have been replaced with large false lashes on both the top and bottom of the eyeholes. Overall it almost looks like a child who got into their mother's makeup and tried turning themselves into Twiggy. The large rubber apron is gone, replaced with an odd-fitting dark blazer.

  
DRAYTON

  
Get on over here. Get the - get everything served up, alright? Make yourself useful around here.

  
Bubba rushes over and begins bringing serving platters to the table while Drayton situates himself in between Grandpa and Nubbins. Nubbins goes eagerly at the food as soon as its set down, his plate filling up quickly.

  
DRAYTON

  
Well! Luckily I managed to salvage a nice, family dinner out of this mess.

  
RANDY

  
Yeah - it. It looks really good, Mr. Sawyer.

  
DRAYTON

  
Course it does! Bubba, hurry up and get in here, can't have a - a family dinner without the whole family.

  
BUBBA

  
Au weh nhs jsk dfs ousoi!

  
Bubba gets the last of the serving dishes onto the table and takes his seat in between Grandpa and Randy. He begins filling Randy's plate before his own - Randy carefully avoids the meat on the plate and opts to attack the sides first.

  
RANDY

  
Th-thank you. Uh. Thank you all. For the meal. It's really, um, this is all very nice. Thank you for your hospitality.

  
Bubba makes some approving noises imitating a chicken's clucking.

  
DRAYTON

  
Of course! Now, uh, obviously, you're not gonna be able to leave after this.

  
Randy pauses dead in his tracks as the Sawyer brothers continue eating.

  
RANDY

  
P-pardon?

  
DRAYTON

  
Well, I mean, what with Bubba's mess up, we can't risk you runnin' to the cops.

  
RANDY

  
I - I absolutely promise you I have no interest in talking to the police.

  
DRAYTON

  
Well, I'm sure you say that, but it's - y'know, it's a risk we can't take!

RANDY

  
No, really, it isn't - I mean, I'm perfectly happy to just be on my way.

  
Drayton suddenly slams a fist on the dinner table.

  
DRAYTON

  
Now, damn it! I've - I've got a family to protect here. God knows I can't just leave it to - to Bubba and Nubbins. You think they'd make it a - a single day in prison? I got a family to protect. Still need a home for Bobby to come home to whenever the hell he comes back.

  
RANDY

  
You're - you're not. Going to, uh. Kill me, are you? Actually, let me - I'm not going to make that a question. Please don't kill me. I would really, really rather not be killed.

  
BUBBA

  
Uh-uh, uh-uh!

  
NUBBINS

  
Nah, you're still our guest, ain't you? If you got pigs, you ain't gonna kill the family dog!

  
RANDY

  
The. Dog?

  
DRAYTON

  
Well, sure!

  
He extends his hand across the table.

  
DRAYTON

  
Welcome to the family!

  
END EPISODE


End file.
